It's Just Not His Week
by windlily
Summary: Seven Hitsugaya torture stories written for an LJ community's seven day challenge.  Yes, I've become challenge crazy, but at least you get a bit of Hitsu whumping out of it, right?
1. Prompt 1: Accident

**My Bad**

* * *

Hitsugaya Toushirou had been rather surprised to learn that many seemed to commend him for being one of the few to suspect any of the traitors. He honestly couldn't see why, and it bothered him that he got so much credit that he felt he didn't deserve. After all, the conversation that had led him to be suspicious of the Third Division taichou had been staged with the goal of putting those exact doubts into his mind. And that wasn't the end of it either. There had been other signs. Quite a few, actually, now that he thought about it.

In fact, he sincerely doubted even the most naïve and gullible member of the entire Gotei Thirteen would have been hard pressed to distrust the man after the nightmare he had experienced only days prior to the ryoka's arrival….

* * *

"Gah!"

Hitsugaya rubbed his sore head, reaching under the small, make-shift desk for whatever it was that had decided to fall out of the sky on top of him. It was a paperweight, and a rather large one at that. He frowned.

"Sorry, Hitsugaya-kun. It jus' slipped right outta my hand."

The Tenth Division taichou removed his gaze from the paperweight to see none other than Ichimaru Gin, holding his hand out to him. Despite a few nagging suspicions that it was very unlikely for a paperweight to fly across a room on accident, he returned it to him. The older man nodded with that same, cocky smirk he always wore before turning back to the shelves at the other end of the archive room. Hitsugaya had come here to finish off the last of the week's reports in hope of some peace and quiet, but it was quickly becoming apparent to him that he was not going to get either.

With a sigh, he let it go and went back to the reports. Before he finished skimming the same page, however, he was knocked right out of his chair. His hand dove for his head before he even tried to get back up, mind reeling at the chances of being hit in the same exact spot twice in the course of two minutes. Slowly but surely he lifted himself up, righting the chair. He removed his hand from his head and was surprised to find blood dripping down his fingers. What the hell had he been hit with anyway?

"Yare, yare. Sorry again, Hitsugaya-kun. I dun know what's wrong with me today. I din' mean it. Honest. Ah, yo're bleedin'."

Ichimaru bent down and picked up a dictionary from the floor by Hitsugaya's feet, waving it apologetically. Hitsugaya blinked up at the fox-faced man, his expression somewhere between disbelief and awe. He wasn't going to try and say that monster of text had just "slipped right outta his hand" too, was he?

"We should pro'ly get ya ta the Fourth, jus' in case, ne?"

Hitsugaya didn't really want to go anywhere with Ichimaru at the moment, but he had to admit he probably should get it checked out, if only to make sure it was taken care of properly. It was bleeding quite a bit for such a small opening. Another sigh, and he grudgingly nodded.

The two slowly made their way toward the Fourth Division compound, keeping to themselves for the most part. It was about half way there that Hitsugaya suddenly found himself tripping over who knew what and falling flat on his face. Ichimaru offered to help him up, but he refused, pulling himself shakily back to his feet as he fingered his tender nose. Whatever it was he had tripped over had felt disturbingly like a foot.

He kept his distance the rest of the way, feeling more than a little relieved when they stepped inside. Unfortunately, Ichimaru seemed determined to see this all the way through, and he followed the younger taichou into the building. One Yamada Hanatarou seemed to be in charge of the greeting today, and Hitsugaya had to suppress yet another sigh. He stepped up to the front desk, twitching his nose slightly and hoping it wasn't broken. It sure as hell hurt like it was.

"Ah! Hitsugaya-taichou! What are you doing here?" the humble seventh seat questioned in concern.

"Just … a little accident, is all," Hitsugaya replied, letting his hand travel back to the sore spot on his head and shooting Ichimaru a purposeful glare as he did so. "It's nothing serious."

"Oh, okay! Follow me," Yamada led them to a free room, obviously relieved. Once they had entered, however, he suddenly became rather frantic. "Ah! I-I forgot the charts! I-I'll be right back! I'm sorry!" And with an exaggerated bow, he nearly flew back out of the room.

Silence reigned for several blissful seconds before Ichimaru seemed to get bored and began rummaging through the different drawers. Hitsugaya frowned. "Are you even permitted to do that?" he asked, his tone particularly sour at this point. "It's the property of the Fourth Division."

"Nah, there's no harm done. I know what I'm doin'," came the nonchalant reply just in time for a very sharp projectile to embed itself in the wall not inches from Hitsugaya's ear.

He whipped his head to the side, identifying the projectile as a surgical scalpel, then whipped his head right back to face Ichimaru. The taller shinigami was still rummaging through the drawers as if he hadn't realized he'd nearly speared his fellow taichou's brain. This time he was able to watch the process take place as Ichimaru Gin analyzed a very nasty looking Liston knife and then, when he grew tired of it, tossed it backward at breakneck speeds. Literally. Even watching it happen, he had not been prepared for how fast the knife was soaring toward him, and he was barely able to save to his neck. Instead, the knife flew right into his shoulder, its tip embedding itself within the wall.

He would have hollered had he not been dumbfounded by Ichimaru's next move. The man picked up three more surgical blades, this time lancets, and finally turned around. He cocked his head as if in confusion at why Hitsugaya was now gripping his shoulder instead of his head, but his smile told a different story. Hitsugaya could only stare as the taller taichou fingered the double-edged blades and took a step forward.

"I jus' got a grand idea, Hitsugaya-kun. Let's play darts while we wait," Ichimaru Gin smirked, taking one of the lancets in his free hand and aiming it.

Eyes widening in comprehension, Hitsugaya hastily yanked the Liston knife free of the wall, nearly biting his lip in half at the pain that shot through his shoulder. Unfortunately, he was not hasty enough. A shock of pain in his other arm announced that the lancet had hit its mark, pinning him back to the wall by his opposite side now.

"Thirteen points."

That crazy man was serious! He was seriously trying to kill him! The next one was aimed for his ribs and met its mark just as easily as the last. Hitsugaya could taste the liquid copper in his mouth spill over, coughing up blood at the shock of it all.

"Outer bull, twenty five points," Ichimaru's voice chimed once again. "An' now, bull's eye."

Hitsugaya gasped. No way. He wouldn't. Yes, he would. The smaller shinigami's eyes locked onto the last lancet as Ichimaru aimed it at his heart. "Why the hell are you doing this?!" he managed to splutter just before the lancet was sent flying. He shut his eyes tight, waiting for the inevitable.

But it never happened.

Slowly, ever so slowly, Hitsugaya opened his eyes. Ichimaru's nose was only inches from him own. "Aw, ya didn' really think I'd go an' do that, now did ya? I was even nice enough ta take ya ta the Fourth." Hitsugaya could see the last blade out of the corner of his eye, buried in the wall several inches away from his aching side. "I jus' wanted to have some fun, ya know? 'Cause ya never know when somethin' might happen."

Hitsugaya Toushirou was utterly and completely speechless.

"Aw, well. It was fun while it lasted, ne? I'll miss ya, Hitsugaya-kun."

He felt the first lancet pop out of the wall as his legs gave way beneath him and he slid to the floor, but he paid it no mind, dumbly watching the Third Division taichou walk out the door. And it was in such a state that Yamada Hanatarou found him when he returned with his precious charts.

"H-H-Hitsugaya-taichou! What happened?!"

Still staring wide-eyed at the now vacant doorway, Hitsugaya could only whisper, "Just … a little accident."

* * *

End


	2. Prompt 2: Revenge

**Surprises**

* * *

"It's your fault."

"Exactly what do you mean?"

"It's all your damn fault!"

Aizen Sousuke took a single step down the stairs that separated him from one Hitsugaya Toushirou. The boy was already battered and bruised, having met up with a few of his forces not currently occupied with Kurosaki and his tag-a-longs, but his eyes shone with a monstrous determination. He had to admit that for once in his life, he was rather surprised. He had calculated Seireitei's possible reactions to Kurosaki's make-shift raid, but never had he expected level-headed Hitsugaya-kun to ditch his own raiding party on some impulse and charge straight back to the man who had so easily defeated him before.

"I still don't quite understand."

"Then I'll make you understand."

Hitsugaya charged, screaming the name of his bankai as it formed around his small body, icy dragon wings picking him up halfway through. He aimed the blade for Aizen's heart, but the defector only smiled at him. A deep throated holler emerged from his vocal chords before he struck his mark. It was a near carbon copy of what had progressed in that cold, dark room in Seireitei, excepting for one, very important detail. Hitsugaya whirled around, eyes narrowing at the spot where Aizen had seemingly just materialized. He was unhurt.

"What are you playing at, Aizen?!" the smaller shinigami shouted, the grip on his hilt tightening.

"That was very stupid," Aizen replied without answering. "It's almost as if you _wanted_ to die."

"Hardly," came the return snarl.

"Your actions prove otherwise."

He charged yet again, wildly swinging Hyourinmaru down in a diagonal slash. Yet again he hit his mark, and yet again he turned to face the real thing, untouched.

"You are fighting without a plan. Your movements leave you wide open. And you're so angry at my words that you can't even think straight. What are _you_ playing at, Hitsugaya-taichou?"

"Shut up, and die!"

This time, Hitsugaya held his zanpakutou's hilt with both hands, and he kept charging, breaking right through the frozen illusion. Aizen, although not expecting it, wasn't caught off guard. He caught the blade with his finger, raising a single, auburn brow at the young taichou's grand fury. But through it all, even as Aizen held Hyourinmaru at bay so easily, Hitsugaya glared, meeting teal to amber in defiant glory. He smirked.

"Ah. I see. This is because of Hinamori-kun, isn't it? I'm terribly sorry about that. She killed herself, didn't she? When you were finally able to show her the truth. Such a tragedy. I commend your loss, but there's hardly anything I can do about it."

An inhuman roar broke its way through Hitsugaya's dry throat as he pushed all of his reiatsu forward, the flower petals behind him beginning to shatter at a remarkable rate. A single drop of blood oozed from Aizen's finger. The smirk vanished.

"This is pointless."

He pushed Hyourinmaru away, causing Hitsugaya to tumble backward before hastily bringing himself back to his feet. He was breathing heavily now, only one four-petal flower left to waste. But despite it all, he charged one last time. Aizen did not move; no illusions were necessary for such a pathetic creature as the one before him. He merely drew Kyouka Suigetsu fully from its sheath, turned to the right to avoid Hitsugaya's blade, and cut a gaping wound deep across the young taichou's torso.

Blood sailed through the air with the force of the blow as Hitsugaya stumbled forward, tripping over nothing and rolling to the ground. A crimson pathway announced the course Hitsugaya had tumbled, and blood covered his broken body nearly head to foot as he stabbed Hyourinmaru into the ground and used it to shakily pull himself back up. Ice was creeping along the wound, freezing it from shoulder to stomach, but the ice was slowly melting at the new blood's warm touch. It was obvious he would be able to do little more than stand, but yet again, Aizen had to admit he was surprised.

Hitsugaya's bankai was still in place. And a wry smirk was etching its way across his bloody lips. Another petal shattered, leaving only one. Aizen's smile returned once more.

"You never did answer my question, did you?"

Hitsugaya's smirk widened a notch unexpectedly. "You're not … the only one … who can keep secrets … Aizen," he managed through deep, straining breaths.

"Have you become delusional from the blood loss, or are you simply unaware of the fact that you are dying?"

"Admiration … may be the furthest thing … from understanding … but your god complex … is still … pretty damn close."

Aizen quirked a brow as realization dawned on him. It was beginning to get extremely annoying, the frequency with which Hitsugaya seemed to be surprising him. "You have been quite level-headed this entire time. You purposely wasted reiatsu on worthless attacks in order to deplete your bankai. The petals are a countdown, but not to your bankai's end."

"I may be … dying, but I'm … taking you with me."

"The entirety of your reiatsu would not be enough bring me to my end, Hitsugaya-taichou. Surely you must realize that much."

"Haven't … you noticed?" the younger shinigami wheezed, another trickle of blood tipping out of his knowing smirk. "Ichimaru and Tousen … are gone. There's … no one left … to fight … your battles for you. And Kurosaki … is on his way here … right now. I … don't _need_ … to kill you."

"That is merely suicide."

"I prefer … the word _sacrifice_."

For the first time in his life, but not the last, Aizen truly felt doubt. His eyes widened as they locked on to the last petal, and it shattered just like the rest. A wave of energy overtook Hitsugaya's body, blood spraying anew from old wounds as the ice melted away to create a ball of pure reiatsu just waiting to explode.

And so it did.

* * *

A single, prone body laid half buried in the rubble as another severely worn figure stood above it. Aizen Sousuke surveyed the sight, amber eyes narrowing. A sliver of reiatsu, barely recognizable, remained within the strewn body. Aizen coughed before pulling his tattered sleeve back over an exposed shoulder wound.

"You're still alive," he iterated as if the unconscious form could hear him. "How … surprising."

His foot crunched down on the large slash wound, and he could hear a light gurgle as blood overflowed from the body's mouth to leak down his chin and cheeks. The defector scowled. "Well, then," he intoned dryly before lifting his foot and striding toward the door. "We shall see."

Hitsugaya Toushirou opened a single, oceanic eye in time to catch Aizen's robes drift out of sight. "Damn right," he choked, closing the eye once more as he waited for Matsumoto to come pick him up.

"Damn right."

* * *

End


	3. Prompt 3: Promise

**Until the Next Promise**

* * *

It had been the right thing to do. He had stood by not only his career's requirements but his own personal morals as well. If he hadn't done what he had, the outcome would have been even worse. He knew it was true. He knew it was all true.

So why did he have the sudden urge to quit his job, scrap his morals, and screw it all?

Gnawing on his lips, he tried to calm himself down. This was no time to get angry. He needed to keep his wits about himself or else he wouldn't have any wits left to keep. They'd be splattered on the pavement along with the rest of his sorry excuse for a brain.

He forced that particular bit of lovely imagery to the side when he heard footsteps however. He held his breath, despite his desperate need for more oxygen, and squished his back as far into the brick wall as it would go. It didn't go very far before it began screaming at him. _Damn_, that hurt! He involuntarily let out a hiss, instantly regretting it when the footsteps halted just on the other side of the corner. His eyes widened. He definitely did _not_ want to go through that a second time. With a huge gulp of air, he charged down the alley and hopped over the fence at the other side just in time to evade an onslaught of disgusting, orange sludge that had surged into his make-shift hiding spot.

When he landed, unfortunately, was the moment he remembered that he really shouldn't be charging down alley ways or hopping fences in his condition. A shocking jolt of pain wound its way up his side, and he toppled over, taking in sharp, straining breaths. Dammit! He needed to keep moving if he was going to make it through this, but it was becoming rather difficult to do so as the wound on his side grew with every, aching breath.

Slowly, he lifted himself back to his feet with his left hand, the right one hanging uselessly at his side. Well, what was left of it anyway. His left moved instinctually back to his side, but he had to stop himself from touching it.

So stupid.

Cursing just about everything he could think to, he hobbled away before the fence melted into itself. He did not want to be around when that happened. He wasn't even sure what was keeping him moving anymore. _Oh. Right. He had promised, hadn't he?_ A bitter chuckle released itself painfully from his lips as his fingers wrapped around a pole, using it to push himself forward. _He'd really have to stop doing that_.

If it hadn't been for that no-good, aggravating, idiotic punk none of this would have happened. It was supposed to be nothing more than routine, dammit! The hollow wasn't even of menos class. This was pathetic. _He_ was pathetic. What the hell had that hollow done to him anyway?

Well, he had a basic idea. Obviously that orange sludge was some sort of corrosive chemical, perhaps a form of acid. But that didn't help the fact that his entire right side was covered in the stuff. In all honesty, it only made it worse.

Yet again, his thoughts were interrupted when the footsteps returned. Oh, crap. Last time, he had at least had some cover, even if it had been blown. But now he was out in the open for all to see, a veritable all-you-can-eat buffet. He tried to move faster but failed miserably. Well, that was why they had separated in the first place, after all. _Oh yes, there would definitely be no more promises_. In the end, all he could do was pull Hyourinmaru out of its sheath with his left hand and hope beyond hope that he'd be able to avoid that sludge.

That brainless, completely incompetent imbecile! That ignorant, thick-headed, mentally-challenged excuse for a sentient soul! Yes, that's exactly the first thing you need to do when you meet a deranged monster out to eat you! Throw a rock at it! And then when someone saves you from your fate, run off to who knows where to become an appetizer for yet another hungry hollow! For the love of…! This was _not_ what he was paid to do.

Actually, it was.

Well then. Maybe it really was time to quit. Or at least take a vacation. Matsumoto would back him up. She'd probably insist on going with him. _Oh, right. Matsumoto. The promise_.

His grip on Hyourinmaru's hilt tightened as the hollow came into view. It certainly was one of the less attractive ones he'd come across. Its skin could hardly be labeled as such, more like a collective of boiling garbage, and its body was more reminiscent of a fat toad than anything else. Despite its bulk, its four, webbed feet padded softly along the street until those beady, black eyes within its skull-shaped mask locked onto his location. It really wasn't hard. He was standing in the center of an intersection.

"The little shinigami's stopped running," it croaked as if talking to itself. "But it's not with the lady friend anymore. Did the lady friend run away like the food?"

Hitsugaya steeled himself, taking a deep, painful breath before meeting the hollow's gaze. He raised Hyourinmaru so that the blade's point was directed between its masked eyes. "Matsumoto would never run away. I ordered her to leave."

"I don't think the lady friend will come back. Even if it does, I'll have already eaten the little shinigami."

"Not a chance," he growled even though his legs could barely support his weight anymore. "We promised. She promised she'd come back. And I promised I'd be waiting."

"The little shinigami is funny," the hollow chuckled. "But now I want to eat it."

Hitsugaya's eyes widened as it opened its gaping mouth, and the sludge came spraying out toward him. He tumbled to the side, rolling out of the way. Unfortunately, sludge doesn't just disappear after it has been projectile vomited out of a hollow's mouth. The ooze seeped along the ground like lava, proving that this particular obstacle was not going to be easily bypassed. He couldn't jump in the state he was in. The burning, seething sensation was dripping ever downward toward his thigh as the wound continued to increase in size and pain.

He was trapped.

"The little shinigami will taste better than the old food," the hollow licked its non-existent lips before readying another pumpkin-colored flood.

And consequently getting its mask split in two.

"Nobody's allowed to mess with _my_ Taichou except for me!"

Despite it all, Hitsugaya felt an aggravated vein in his forehead pop. "What was that?" he grunted.

"Ah! Taichou!" Matsumoto Rangiku called out gleefully, running over to him once the hollow's sludge had begun to dissipate. When she got close enough to see his condition, however, she froze, pale eyes wide. His arm along with most of the right side of his torso was literally sizzling as the skin boiled aside to make the gaping wound visible. There was no blood, though she couldn't decide whether that was a good thing or a bad thing. "Taichou! I-I…"

"Kept your promise," the smaller shinigami finished curtly.

"And so did you." She smiled weakly, though her eyes never left Hitsugaya's hollowed out side.

"M-Matsumoto," he began hesitantly.

"Yes, Taichou?" she quickly responded. Had he just … _stuttered_?

"I … uh … can't move."

"Do you need me to carry you, Taichou?"

"That would … help."

A small smirk poked its way along her lips despite herself as she carefully picked Hitsugaya up, carrying him bridal style and doing her best to avoid the wounds. She couldn't imagine the pain he must be trying so desperately to hide from her, and she could only hope Inoue Orihime would be able to put a stop to it, but something about the sudden change in her taichou's features from tense and serious to loose and sleepy seemed to tell her everything would be all right. And that gave her the courage to make sure she got him back to safety as soon as possible.

"Matsumoto," she heard him whisper.

"Yes, Taichou?"

"If anyone asks, it was an adjuchas."

* * *

End


	4. Prompt 4: Memory

**Positive Reinforcement**

* * *

The group trudged grudgingly back to Inoue's house, entering the door one at a time and leaving muddy footprints all over the carpet. All of them were looking worse for the wear, but Hitsugaya Toushirou was by far in the worst shape of them all. As everyone else stopped in the living room, Hitsugaya trudged on to the guest room, grabbed his wallet, and returned to the others. He handed each member of his party 2500 yen.

"Now, what did you see this morning?"

"Absolutely nothing, sir!" they chimed in unison.

It wasn't a bribe. It was … positive reinforcement.


	5. Prompt 5: Blood

**Imperfect**

* * *

The red scarf wrapped itself tightly around his entire face and neck, yanking his head backward painfully. Blue-green eyes shut themselves tight as the cloth was twisted again and again at the back of his neck, tightening its hold around his head. The scarf had been an unexpected (and extremely vexing) touch, but in all honesty, he had to wonder whether it was better than the alternative.

At least this way, he couldn't see his opponent.

Hitsugaya hadn't really believed this could happen, had refused to think about it period. Aizen was long gone. Ichimaru and Tousen had finally been dealt with. The arrancar and Espada had been virtually eradicated. So why the hell was this happening now?!

He could still sense most of the battles raging all about Seireitei. Kurosaki's reiatsu, flaring dangerously. Kuchiki, her reiatsu was as hard as ice; he couldn't blame her, considering her opponent. Abarai and Matsumoto were waging their own, quiet wars as well. They were the closest. Even Kyouraku, Ukitake, and Kenpachi had joined in at some point; he wasn't exactly sure when. It had been after the thing currently strangling him had cut him off halfway on his route to the Fifth.

He had been the first to engage. It figured. She had never been one for patience.

_No_, he scolded himself, even as his arms lurched forward to claw at his throat as the scarf grew ever tighter. He couldn't allow himself to think like that. The moment he did, it was all over.

He opened his eyes once more, but all it offered him was a canvas of blood red. It took another second to remember this was because his entire face was currently engulfed in a deadly accessory. Dammit. The lack of oxygen was beginning to affect his head. He needed to concentrate!

A sadistic cackle broke out from behind him. "Aww. And you were trying so hard a second ago. You're so cute when you're afraid. It just makes me want to hug you so hard, your brains explode! Wouldn't that be adorable?"

The thought of _that voice_ saying _those words_ finally pumped his adrenaline over the top. His nails dug into the cloth and deeper into his own flesh, tearing it from his neck before he leapt forward and out of the way. Heaving in order to refill his deprived lungs, he pulled the scarf down out of his eyes, letting it hang loosely about the self-inflicted gashes on his neck.

"Ooh! The little guy's got spunk! I like that!"

Hitsugaya stared at the creature in front of him. Urahara had explained it before, when Ukitake had held his emergency captain's meeting. Aizen had been experimenting with more than merely the Hougyoku, with more than using that alone in his shinigamification techniques. He had taken reiatsu samples of key players in the first raid of Hueco Mundo. He had created a breed of hollow that was too much for even him to control. But despite all the explanation, despite all that he knew to be true, he still couldn't believe it.

Even as his own lieutenant stood before him, garbed in white with hollow eyes to match and a smile that was comparable to the late Ichimaru's for its malice. He still couldn't believe it.

"So? Are you gonna fight, or what?"

_Or what_, he wanted so badly to say. But he couldn't. He told himself again. It wasn't Matsumoto.

It didn't help this time either.

He leaned down and picked Hyourinmaru back up, apologizing to the riled dragon for dropping him. He distinctly heard the dragon snort. So, he felt the same way as Hitsugaya. He should save the apologies for later … and for someone else entirely. Gritting his teeth together, he pointed the blade at the thing that had stolen his lieutenant's appearance. "Ready when you are."

Its grin widened exponentially as it pulled out its own zanpakutou from its sheath. "Growl, Haineko!" the creature screamed before he could react. _Haineko. It had Haineko._ The second of hesitation was all the hollow needed.

White ashes shot toward every vital point of his body. His eyes widened in realization as he called upon his own shikai just a little too late. He managed to hold the hilt of his blade protectively in front of his heart, but nearly every other inch of his body was wracked in minute and bleeding cuts. He gasped for breath, scolding himself again and again even though he knew it wouldn't help.

It was a copy of Matsumoto! It was only logical that its weapon would resemble hers as well! But this thing wasn't Matsumoto. And its zanpakutou wasn't Haineko. He could feel Matsumoto's reiatsu, could pinpoint her exact location. This wasn't her. It was nothing like her.

So why the hell was he having so many problems?! Why was he in such denial?

He shut his eyes tight, still panting from the counterfeit Haineko's blow. This wasn't like him at all. He needed to concentrate; he needed to focus on this blasted fight. He was a captain, for goodness sake!

But even a captain isn't perfect.

"Look, you're cute and all, but I really would like to finish this up. If I end up taking forever to defeat my opponent, then all of the others won't let me live it down!"

_That voice_ again. He struggled to pull himself back into a fighting stance. He couldn't ignore that amount of pain, but he sure as hell would beat it. Listlessly, he reached for the red scarf around his neck, dyed all the deeper by his own, crimson blood, and pulled it back up in front of his eyes.

"As you wish," he whispered, tightening his hold on Hyourinmaru's hilt.

It didn't matter that he was facing nothing more than another hollow. It didn't matter that the real Matsumoto was holding her own against another enemy only blocks away. It didn't matter that he was drenched in his own blood.

Because he had always been able to stomach the sight of his own spilt blood much easier than hers.


	6. Prompt 6: Trap

**The Question**

* * *

Hitsugaya heaved a deep breath, tense and alert even though he knew escape was impossible. Madarame stood before him, and Ayasegawa behind. He was trapped.

"Finally got ya, you shrimp. You run way too damned fast!"

"Now," Ayasegawa triumphantly interrupted his friend's elegant speech, "answer the question, Hitsugaya-taichou."

Hitsugaya looked from the third to the fifth before slumping in defeat. It would be better just to get it over with instead of continuing his attempts to avoid the inevitable.

"Yes," he huffed. "I use the same gel as Kenpachi."

And he stormed off, leaving two very self-satisfied shinigami behind.


	7. Prompt 7: Mask

**First Name Basis**

* * *

Something about the vaizard. Something about shinigami becoming hollows. Something about _Kurosaki_ becoming a hollow. Something about learning to control it, finally mastering it, and then…

"Oh ho ho. It's nice to finally meet 'cha, Toushirou. I know you, but you don't know me. Allow me to introduce myself. I'm the little hollow that our mutual, orange-haired friend here thinks he's beaten."

Damn it all. It had been bad enough that once his request to aid Kurosaki had finally been accepted, he had found the substitute shinigami near death _yet again_. But then seeing him turn away from Noitora's dead body and face him, disintegrating hollow mask and all, had nearly had him ready to take the others and go right back to Seireitei. A great deal of explanation had been in order, and Kurosaki had tried to comply before promptly passing out from exertion. But the cause of his lapse quickly became all the more serious when his eyes opened once again, the eerie, hawk-like eyes of a hollow.

And that pretty much brought him back to the present, staring down a hollow version of Kurosaki Ichigo who was currently cracking his neck experimentally and eyeing Hitsugaya's tense stance with a playful smirk.

"Aw, are ya worried about little Ichigo?" The hollow's smirk only widened as Hitsugaya's eyes narrowed. "Don't. He's just a bit sleepy. I mean, he pushed it a bit much, don't 'cha think? Calling on me so many times in a row. Ha! It's no wonder he couldn't resist. Poor shmuck. Probably feels so guilty too…."

"Inoue, step back," was all Hitsugaya was willing to say on the matter. He didn't know how long it would take for the others to notice Kurosaki's change. Inoue Orihime did not argue with his demand, inching farther and farther away as she tightly clutched the sobbing infant arrancar named Nell.

"Just what I'd expect from little Toushirou, ne? Always so protective of the ladies."

"What do you want?" the young taichou snarled, his hand drifting ever upward toward Hyourinmaru's hilt.

"And Ichigo thinks _I'm_ rude," the hollow huffed. "I'm just trying to have a decent conversation. You don't get much of those when you're stuck in somebody else's head. But if ya want a fight instead, I'd be more than happy to oblige."

Hitsugaya Toushirou was feeling extremely uneasy at this point. If no one had showed up by now, it meant they likely weren't going to show up at all. He was on his own with this one. Biting his lip, he forced his hand back to his side. "Why would a hollow have any interest in talking to me?"

The deranged smirk returned as the hollow rapped his knuckles on Kurosaki's temples. "Why wouldn't I be interested in talking to you, Toushirou? You're one of Ichigo's _favorites_." The way with which he emphasized the last word did not bode well with Hitsugaya. He was fairly sure this hollow had a very different outlook than Kurosaki on how to treat so-called favorites. When he didn't reply, however, the hollow continued. "Did'ja know he only calls three of the taichou by their first names?"

"What does that have to do with anything?" the white haired shinigami finally hazarded becoming rather impatient despite himself. He had never before met a hollow that was content with a bit of idle chatter. All it would take was an instant. An instant and this could all go to hell. As if it hadn't already.

"Ya know, for a genius you can be pretty dense," the hollow grinned his maniacal grin as he began counting off of his fingers. "There's ol' Kenpachi that Ichigo had a pathetic little brawl with, and suddenly they were the best of friends. And then there's Byakuya who got all sentimental and crap and ended up saving poor, helpless Rukia's life. And then there's little you. Ichigo didn't even meet you 'til after it was all over. You can't tell me you never wondered why he ranked you right up there with his stupid, little posse, can you?"

Hitsugaya decided silence would be the best answer. In all honesty, he had never paid any attention to it. Kurosaki had always just been _that_ type of person. The type of person who would never see him as anything more than _a kid_. A smart kid, sure. But his minute brain didn't seem capable of handling the fact that Hitsugaya was actually a couple decades older than him. That was what he had dismissed Kurosaki's antics as, nothing more, nothing less. It didn't really matter, did it? To Kurosaki, anyway. It sure as hell got on his nerves. The most overwhelming question soaring through his mind at the moment, though, was why the hollow was bringing it up at all.

The hollow studied him, golden eyes alight with some sort of foreign amusement Hitsugaya could not comprehend. "So serious. C'mon, lighten up a bit. I'm just being friendly, ne?" he smirked. "It's really stupid, ya know. His reason. You're probably too intelligent to understand."

Hitsugaya couldn't stop himself from quirking a brow in curiosity, and the moment he did so, the hollow seized on it. "Little Toushirou's finally interested? Heh. I'll have to tell Ichigo how long it took you to care." Suddenly, he broke into a bout of particularly maniacal laughter, taking a purposeful stride forward. "You really wanna know, don't 'cha, little chicken shit?! You're just itching to hear, but you're just too professional to show it! You're waiting for your little friends who're never gonna come! You wanna know so bad?! I'll tell ya!"

The taichou's eyes widened as the hollow bolted toward him, grabbing for Zangetsu as he ran, and he realized that this was that instant where everything would go downhill. He hastily unsheathed Hyourinmaru and swung down to meet the hollow dead on. Sparks flew as zanpakutou clashed with zanpakutou, but Hitsugaya managed to hold his ground. The hollow rushed his head forward over the blades until their noses were only inches apart.

"It's because you lost too."

Hitsugaya's eyes flashed before he pushed the hollow away with an unexpected rush of adrenaline. "What the _hell_ are you talking about?" That ever-present smirk glinted against Kurosaki's blade before he charged again. Hitsugaya knew he wouldn't be able to pull off another lucky escape and held Hyourinmaru at the ready, brows furrowing dangerously as he hollered, "Set upon the frozen heavens, Hyourinmaru!"

The two shikai stopped each other yet again, and the hollow's grin only grew. It was far too reminiscent of a certain former Third Division taichou for Hitsugaya's comfort. Bearing this thought in mind, he released the stale mate with the hollow and dodged to the side. The hollow's head turned to follow him, but otherwise he didn't move. "Your pretty fukutaichou isn't as tight-lipped as her little taichou," he replied, the amusement never leaving his voice. "Ichigo knows all about your pathetic fight with Aizen. 'I must protect Hinamori! Die!'" he mocked, using sweeping hand motions to make the spectacle all the more obnoxious. "But you know who was _really_ whooped. You know better than anyone, eh, Toushirou?"

Hitsugaya almost missed the next charge, just barely catching Zangetsu with his own zanpakutou, his sandals skidding along the dirt as he was pushed backward into a rock. The impact rushed up his spine as he coughed, a small trickle of blood mixing in with his saliva. He glared up into those crazed, golden orbs from across their clashing blades, daring him to repeat what he had said.

But he didn't. Instead, he continued, the volume of his voice escalating with each passing sentence. "You're both so friggin' pathetic, it hurts! Your chivalry means squat when your enemy's a hundred times stronger than you! You both think you're so damn strong, huh? Huh?! But you're not, are ya?! You're both just losers who can't do anything yourselves! You think you've got problems?! How about me?! I have to live with this obnoxious shit who'd skewer his own friggin' body on a flag pole just to protect some stupid chick who can't hold her own!"

He jumped backward, releasing Hitsugaya from his pressure. The shinigami's frown deepened as he forced himself back up, chancing a quick glance back at Inoue. She looked alright, if rather shocked. She wasn't in any danger anyway, and that was what mattered at this point.

"It's guys like you that annoy me the most."

Hitsugaya forced his attention back to the hollow. Had he just … scowled? A single, white brow rose in interest. But as soon as he had noticed it, it had disappeared, the same, maniacal grin replacing it with ease.

"Maybe if I kill you, Ichigo'll finally see how stupid it is to keep trying to use me like he is."

And it was that moment that he realized he had been wrong. The hollow had just been playing with him up until now, testing him, seeking out responses. The instant when it had all gone to hell. That had been nothing but a game. He had no idea what true hell was like.

But he was about to find out.

"Bankai."

Kurosaki's large blade condensed itself into a pure black daitou, and it wasn't hard for Hitsugaya to tell the difference in power. The substitute shinigami's usually wild reiatsu was condensing along with the zanpakutou. The density of the reiatsu that had amassed about Kurosaki's body was most definitely not a good sign. And when those hawk-like eyes locked onto him once again, he knew he had no other choice.

He shouted the command to Hyourinmaru as the hollow charged yet again, and the dragon eagerly obliged. The sturdy ice wrapped itself protectively around Hitsugaya, crystal clear wings and a tail forming icicle by icicle just before the blow was cast. Hyourinmaru blocked Zangetsu yet again, but the power in the blade had increased exponentially, Hitsugaya's hand shaking from the effort it took to hold the hollow back.

And in the blink of an eye, the hollow was gone. A rush of wind in his ear, and Hitsugaya whirled around to block a downward slash to his left. The young shinigami flung Hyourinmaru forward, knocking Zangetsu away and affording him just enough time to turn in a circle and gain momentum enough for a swipe to the hollow's ribs. He had avoided fighting back until now, for Kurosaki's sake, but it was becoming all too clear that he wouldn't stand a chance unless he fought to kill.

The hollow deftly avoided the blow, the glint of his grin the last thing Hitsugaya saw before he felt the piercing pain in his shoulder. Blood splattered from the corner of his vision, raining crimson droplets onto the hollow's smirking face, once again only inches from Hitsugaya's own.

"You really are pathetic, ya chicken shit," he sneered into Hitsugaya's wide eyes. It took a moment for it to register in Hitsugaya's mind that Zangetsu was sinking ever deeper into his shoulder, but when he finally returned to his senses, adrenaline overpowered the pain. He forced Hyourinmaru beneath the hollow's blade and wrenched it upward, biting his lip to keep himself from hollering. The hollow leapt back, his smirk melting into another fit of laughter. "All of you are! You're all nothing more than tiny, swarming gnats! You couldn't save little Momo, and he couldn't save his mommy, and Rukia couldn't save her stupid boyfriend, and Rangiku couldn't save you, and Renji couldn't save Rukia, and _none_ of you are gonna be able to save Orihime! You're all losers!

"But you two! You're the worst of all! You _know_ you're losers! You've been losers your whole, damn lives! You've known it your whole, damn lives! And yet you _still_ keep trying! You won't give up 'til there's nothing left of ya but a pile of blood and guts! It makes me sick! I oughtta…!"

The hollow jerked backward in mid-sentence, and Hitsugaya wasn't about to waste his chance asking why. He flew toward the creature as fast as the icy wings would take him, thrusting Hyourinmaru straight for his shoulder. It seemed appropriately ironic. Even more so when it actually hit its mark. Kurosaki's body soared right along with the blade until they collided with a dirt wall, blood flying from both of the fighters' wounds as the ice that had molded over his shoulder cracked with the pressure of his attack.

The hollow's hand shot to his face, which Hitsugaya thought was rather peculiar, but as soon as the dust settled he understood. His hand gripped the mask, desperately trying to pull it off. One of the eyes he had quickly come to loath had returned to its original almond color and stared at his would-be attacker in confusion. "Toushirou…?"

Hitsugaya hesitated. And before he could even comprehend what had happened, Zangetsu had skewered him through his abdomen. "What'd I tell ya, chicken shit?" the hollow smirked wildly, twisting the blade about the small shinigami's gut. "You're nothing but a pathetic loser!"

It hurt. It _hurt_, dammit! His right hand still wrapped around Hyourinmaru's hilt, holding the blade to the hollow's shoulder, he shakily moved his left to Zangetsu and grasped the zanpakutou with inhuman determination, losing even more of the precious, crimson fluid as he did so. The hollow was right about one thing. He wasn't giving up until he was so much bodily fluids soaking into the dirt. He yanked the blade from his chest, coughing and hacking up blood as he tumbled backward, taking Hyourinmaru with him.

The hollow stepped forward, an insane sheen in his golden orbs as they took in the blood running down Kurosaki's shihakushou then Hitsugaya, barely able to stand and only just managing to retain bankai. He wasn't sure which vital organ he had hit, but it was obvious he had struck at least one of them. Toushirou was as good as dead. _Too easy._ The grin only widened.

And then it disappeared. A familiar scowl took its place as a hand once again forced itself jerkily up toward the mask, grasping at its sharp edge. "Stay out of this!" the hollow shrieked as Hitsugaya watched in awe, clutching Hyourinmaru to keep his balance. "You're too weak! There's no way you can stop me! Stay out of it!" The screams became more and more desperate when the misbehaving hand refused to halt its efforts.

And finally, the mask came clear off.

Kurosaki Ichigo flung the offending ceramic as far as he could manage, heaving deep, needy breaths as he stared at the blood soaked shinigami taichou before him.

"Kurosaki?"

He nodded, dumb from the effort it had taken to regain his body.

"Good."

And the boy promptly collapsed, his bankai completely dissipated before he even hit the floor.

* * *

"Orihime … er … How is he?"

"I don't know," returned a worried, female voice. "I did my best, but he hasn't woken up yet. I hope I didn't hurt him even more."

"You could hardly hurt him any more than _I_ did," was the cynical reply.

Brows furrowed as Hitsugaya Toushirou grudgingly lifted his eye lids. He would have preferred to rest a little longer, but even if he wasn't entirely awake as of yet, he could tell by the tone of the disembodied voices that now was not the time. Blinking rapidly as he grew used to what little light there was, he tried to focus his vision. Off to his right stood Kurosaki Ichigo, and Inoue Orihime sat next to him, holding the hand of the childish arrancar dubbed Nell.

_Oh, right. The hollow._

Hitsugaya allowed a light groan as he slowly sat up, his hand instinctively heading toward the gaping hole in his chest that was no longer there. As soon as the sound left his mouth, all three of the others hastily turned toward him, Kurosaki even going so far as to run right to his side. The substitute shinigami crouched down, cocking his head to look the young taichou in the eye. "You okay?" His voice was so full of concern, Hitsugaya could have killed him for it.

Instead, the shinigami drew his head back, startled by Kurosaki's sudden closeness. A few awkward seconds later, he was finally able to grunt a simple "Fine."

Kurosaki didn't seem quite so ready to accept the concise reply but forced himself to let it go. He reached out a hand to the smaller boy. "Good."

Frowning at the meaningful answer, Hitsugaya sighed and took the ragged teen's hand, allowing him to pull him back to his feet. He grabbed for Hyourinmaru and re-sheathed it, enduring the dragon's prideful chiding with practiced stoicism. Kurosaki refused to take his eyes off of him, and with yet another sigh, he folded his arms across his chest and returned the gaze. "Will that ever happen again?"

Kurosaki clenched his fist, irises alight with familiar determination. "Not if I can help it," he affirmed through tightly ground teeth. "You won't _ever_ see him again, Toushirou."

Hitsugaya paused, eyes narrowing.

"_Did'ja know he only calls three of the taichou by their first names?"_

His reason.

"_It's because you lost too."_

No.

"_You couldn't save little Momo, and he couldn't save his mommy, and Rukia couldn't save her stupid boyfriend, and Rangiku couldn't save you, and Renji couldn't save Rukia, and _none_ of you are gonna be able to save Orihime! You're all losers!"_

That wasn't it.

"_Ichigo knows all about your pathetic fight with Aizen."_

It wasn't even close.

"_You won't give up 'til there's nothing left of ya but a pile of blood and guts!"_

The smallest of smiles crawled its way across Hitsugaya's thin lips.

"I'm sure I won't," he muttered, turning away, "Ichigo."

Kurosaki's jaw dropped clear to the floor, and Hitsugaya could no longer suppress a smirk as he walked toward Inoue and the arrancar. "Did you just…? I mean…? You said … my...? You just called me…?"

"Is something wrong, Kurosaki?" the shinigami taichou turned back, quirking a brow in amusement.

"…No," the redhead finally huffed before jogging up after him.

He'd bring it up later. After Aizen was defeated.

Maybe then they'd _both_ be a little less stubborn.


End file.
